


Anything For You

by TroubleWaltzing



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, POV Alternating, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleWaltzing/pseuds/TroubleWaltzing
Summary: Dog and Daryl find Connie after the Hilltop Battle.
Relationships: Connie/Daryl Dixon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> This was just my idea on how Connie is found that I wrote up in a few hours (wish it could be longer but I don't have the time) because I am impatient and excited!

Connie leaned heavily against a tree and looked around, seeing nothing but lush greens and earthy browns, her shoulders slumped in momentary relief. Her head was pounding and muscles sore, dehydrated and taut with tension, she didn't know how long she had before giving out from total exhaustion. Connie only hoped if her body failed on her then at least she'd find a place to settle where there was sufficient cover away from Walkers and Whisperers. More than that, she hoped Magna found her way back home, safe and intact. 

However, Connie was pragmatic, and she knew the horde wasn't simply being moved to another hidden location. If the Whisperers intended to strike then now was the opportune moment. She had to come to terms with the reality that they'd already made it to Hilltop, and the possibility that Alexandria would be next. Where would they go? Where could _she_ go to find them?

She hadn't even said goodbye to Kelly. Connie didn't think she would _need_ to before the world came tumbling down around her– literally.

Biting her lower lip to stop it from trembling, she brushed the back of her hand against the damp curls plastered to her forehead, pushing them away. Slowly, she breathed in and out to settle her pulse and focused her thoughts. No sense in weighing her down on what-ifs, building up unnecessary distractions or making her paranoid.

Shoving off the tree, she pushed forward. 

Half an hour later, Connie sensed someone following her. 

It was an unpleasant sensation, rippling down her spine and drawing her shoulders up defensively. Subtly, her eyes flickered around, spotting nothing but greens, yellows, and browns in various hues. But she knew. She always had a keen eye when it came to perceiving others; their presence and motives. It's what made her a good journalist before the world descended into hell, well, a more visible kind, anyway. 

And whoever had their eyes on her were, definitely, not good.

Sliding a hand over her torso to give the allusion of weakness, Connie fingered the edge of her knife and– 

_The stench of days old sweat and rotting flesh._

Whirling around, the sight of a Walker's face a foot away, one with very lively eyes was a few feet from her. 

Breath hitching, an overwhelming swirl of anxiety and anticipation shot through her in the tense moments of stillness between the two.

That's when someone rushed her from the side.

The world tilted. Fast. Too fast. It was all a blur that became bright and dizzying when she roughly landed on the ground, her attacker above her. Her knife several inches away, having skidded across the ground under a pile of dead leaves. 

The Whisperer on top of her held something sharp and shiny of their own, glinting in the rays of light peeking between the trees.

He drove it down and Connie diverted it, shoving the back of her forearm into her attacker's, knocking his arm away and sending his blade flying. He grabbed the lapels of her vest and yanked her forward only to shove her back down, her head colliding with the floor and knocking the wind out of her. Luckily, it did little to disorient her between the wood's natural padding and her thick bun.

The hand now squeezing her neck, however, was _not_ ideal.

Exhausted, alone, and afraid, Connie knew now was not the time to panic.

It was either fight or die.

Clenching her teeth, she braced a foot against the ground and used what little of depleting strength she had to buck her hip and dislodge him. She used the momentum to roll over, scrambling for her knife, curling her finger over the handle and straddling the Whisperer.

She watched his blue eyes widening beneath the wrinkly, gray skinned mask before she plunged her knife into his skull.

She turned to the other Whisperer, holding her breath and awaiting what she knew would be a wallop, she saw his dirt stained jeans before his face, him gearing up to kick her off–

And then he was gone, being dragged to the ground by something large and hairy. 

Her breath hitched in disbelief at the sight of Dog in front of her, tearing into the Whisperer who was about to strike her.

Connie whipped her head around to the woods making sure no one else was coming before pulling her blade out of the dead Whisperer.

Dog sunk his teeth into his victim's leg and viciously shook him, dragging him about two feet's distance away from her. With a huff of breath, Connie got to her feet and stumbled over to the squirming Whisperer, his head tilted back in agony– probably screaming for help, as well.

She made quick work in silencing him.

Before she knew it, Dog was on her, panting and tail wagging excitedly. Holstering her knife, she bent down to pet him, a sob stuck in her throat. She buried her face into his fur, taking comfort in him for as long as she felt safe to do so before straightening. She wondered how Dog had gotten out here. Was she closer to Hilltop than she'd thought? Had it fallen? Or was someone out there? A group, maybe? Daryl? 

Her heart skittered at that last thought. If he went looking for her surely that must mean everyone else is safe? And that she would be soon, too.

She patted her thigh to indicate Dog should follow but there was no need, he was right on her heel, alert and vigilant as they trekked through Virginia woods. 

* * *

Daryl tracked Dog's movements with growing hope, yet his knees felt weaker with each step he took. He saw how tired and hollow Magna looked when everyone met at the rendezvous point. Magna, who normally went out of her way to present herself as above-it-all, tough as nails, and a bit bitchy. All the same, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he saw she was okay...until he found out Connie wasn't with her. Because Magna's hollow look and the almost meek demeanor had made Daryl uneasy. 

He didn't know what he'd do if he found Connie in the same state, or worse. While Daryl wasn't the same guy he was before, the man he was today wasn't any prettier when it came to the people he cared about getting hurt.

Kelly had wanted to come, of course, she did. Their whole group did. But three out of four of them were injured, and Yumiko still had her head on straight so he told her to stay behind and make sure everyone else got with the program. Besides, it would be easier if it was just him and Dog. This was _his_ element, and he didn't need anyone slowing him down on his search for Connie.

Daryl's checking for crushed leaves and twigs along with Dog's distinctive paw print when he hears a bark not too far from him. Daryl broke into a run, hopping over jutting stumps and weaving around tree after tree until he saw her, Dog trotting beside her even after he spotted his longtime companion of several years. 

"Connie!" Daryl cried out, despite knowing she wouldn't hear. It was more for his reassurance, knowing that she was right in front of him, _breathing_ ; looking worse for wear, but, okay. Heart hammering in his chest so loud and hard he felt as if it could burst, he ran to her.

When Connie did look up and see him, her expression flashed from shock to relief before finally settling on pure joy. She hurried towards him, albeit a little slower but no less urgent.

He doesn't know who had their arms around the other first and he didn't care. The soft yet strong thumping of her heart against his chest was a sensation he'd never forget.

Daryl buried his face between the crook of her neck and shoulder, one hand splayed across her upper back and the other cradling the back of her head, his hold tight and secure. She sighed against him and squeezed him tighter, so he lingered for a little longer before reluctantly pulling away enough to look her over.

"Are you okay?" He said and signed at the same time, voice trembling as bad as his hands. He brushed stray curls from her face, his thumb smoothing around a cut.

He knew she'd be alive, his belief in that never swayed. Connie was smart, and a fighter. It still didn't stop him from feeling immense relief and happiness among many other things at knowing she was okay and right in front of him.

Connie nodded with a small huff of joyful laughter, signing, "I'm okay," although she braced a hand on his shoulder and leaned heavily against him.

Satisfied that she wasn't seriously injured, he pulled a flask from his pant pocket and gave it to her. Connie took small sips, and he was pleased that she knew to do so or else she'd probably just throw it back up. 

After she seemingly had her fill for now, Daryl capped the flask and stuffed it back into his pocket. 

"Magna?" She signed as Daryl inched closer to her.

"She's safe," he said, "everyone is safe– at Oceanside."

Connie nodded again, sharper this time, blinking rapidly as she tried to hold everything together. 

"You..." She began to sign but faltered, unsure.

Daryl frowned, brows pinching together. "What?"

Hands fluttering against her abdomen, she shifted on her feet and looked down. 

"Hey," Daryl murmured, hands wrapping around her upper arms to rub them reassuringly. 

"You," she tried again, her big, expressive eyes meeting his, "you came back for me?"

"Yeah...yeah, Connie, you're family. 'Course I came back for you." Daryl smiled softly at her, still a little confused as to how she couldn't know that. "You're family," he repeated while signing everything as best as he could, "I'd do _anything_ _for you_."

After that, whatever doubt or anxiousness that clung to her mind out here all alone amongst the dead and those who pretended to be dead were gone. 

Connie smiled back and leaned back against him. Daryl ducked down so she could wrap her arm around the back of his neck, and without preamble he hooked an arm behind her legs, lifting her up. Connie rested her head against his chest as Daryl and Dog made their way to the rendezvous point.


End file.
